


What's Mine Is Mine

by Star_less



Series: The Jasmine Dragon Era (A Classification ‘Verse) [3]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe, Arguing, Crying, Fluff, Gaang (Avatar) as Family, Gen, Hurt, Little Sokka, Little Zuko - Freeform, Littles Are Known, Non-Sexual Age Play, Not Canon Compliant, One Shot, Slice of Life, Sokka (Avatar) Needs a Hug, Stuffed Toys, Temper Tantrums, Zuko (Avatar) Needs a Hug, Zuko is misunderstood, classified littles, mentions of zuko's childhood, ozai's beach house, upset sokka, upset zuko
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:02:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27582446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_less/pseuds/Star_less
Summary: Excited at the revelation that Zuko is a Classified Little just like him, Sokka allows for him to borrow his Polar Bear. When Zuko borrows Polar Bear for a little bit too long, tensions run high.
Relationships: Sokka & Zuko (Avatar), The Gaang & Zuko (Avatar)
Series: The Jasmine Dragon Era (A Classification ‘Verse) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1927978
Comments: 5
Kudos: 45





	What's Mine Is Mine

**Author's Note:**

> This fic contains themes of age regression/age play and includes classified 'littles' ie characters acting younger than they are. If that isn't your thing feel free to move on.   
> This fic can be read standalone but also links closely to my bigger ATLA littlespace fic, Classificatory Matters. If I was going to fit this into the main fic it would go somewhere around chapter eight.

_Sokka looked hopeful still. "You can borrow my polar bear if you want!"_

That was what he had told Zuko when they had first found out that Zuko was a Little. Why would he not? Gran-Gran had always raised him to share, and Katara had nailed it into him often enough too. Plus he was Little then, Little and excited at the prospect of having a fellow Little playmate when he had run his mouth without really paying much mind to what he was saying. He hadn’t really expected Zuko to agree to it anyway - not when he was so grumpy and defensive of his Little side. So he had toddled off to where he had laid Polar Bear down and held him out toward the Little excitedly, and Zuko had unsurely taken the Polar Bear under the arms as if he didn’t know how to hold a Polar Bear stuffie in the first place. 

And then he hadn’t let it go.

Zuko liked it. That was new for him; he certainly hadn’t imagined himself liking it very much.  
Perhaps it wasn’t something he wanted to shout from the rooftops, but he tucked the fuzzy grey-white stuffie just beneath his chin and squeezed his fat furry belly in a cuddle so hard he was surprised he didn’t burst the stitches. Polar Bear’s funny long limbs were heavy on the bottoms so it was almost like he was cuddling a real polar bear cub.  
It made him feel warm all in his belly and all cloudy and faraway in his head. Aang and Toph and Katara and Sokka were right there next to him – he knew that – but their voices sounded so small and so distant.  
It was just him and Polar Bear.  
Polar Bear smelled old somehow. Even though he was wearing a hoodie Zuko supposed he could be a very old Polar Bear. Or perhaps it was all the adventuring he went on. He smelled of Sokka too, after all, like saltwater was permanently knotted into the thin strands of his fur.  
It was… nice.  
Smiling shyly, a smile that was hidden in the fur of Polar Bear, he gingerly took the stuffie out from where he had tucked it under his chin, and instead held him by one of his weighted arms, much like he had seen Sokka do. In his fist, Polar Bear dangled cheerfully a little way away from the floor. Zuko toddled in the direction of his bedroom – his private little coven away from everybody else’s eyes and ears.  
It was just him and Polar Bear.  
His bedroom was familiar; the same tiny bed, the same stuffed bookcase with the same read-and-read-again stories, the same oval rug on the floor.  
The last time he had been here he was young enough to be tucked into bed and cooed over. Now… well, he hadn’t been tucked into bed and cooed over in ages - but the second he stepped inside it was as if all those feelings flooded back ten-fold.  
Hesitantly he flopped down onto the bed, the sheets rustling beneath his bottom. “This is my bedroom,” he told Polar Bear, and Polar Bear stared down his snout at Zuko. He seemed a bit unsure of himself, like he preferred Sokka. Zuko shook his head at the bear, looking slowly around. “It’s fun!” he said, even softer. Or at least it had been fun when he was a child. He remembered lying on his belly in this bedroom, playing with little wooden Fire Nation soldiers, re-enacting battles that stretched over lazy summer afternoons. Azula wasn’t much of a fan of imaginative play. Uncle Iroh had gifted her a doll once, a feeble little Earth Kingdom girl, and Azula had spat ‘peh!’ at it and delighted in trussing the poor little doll up in some sort of home-made slingshot then sending her sailing legs-and-arms akimbo through the air. Zuko’s long summer-afternoon playtimes involved various (increasingly elaborate) rescue missions for the poor kidnapped girl until Azula found her, laughed, called Zuko a sop before trying to tug the poor doll’s head off - and so the cycle turned over again. Until one day Azula really was successful and the poor little Earth Kingdom girl was headless, her doughy little face rolling across the bedroom floor looking so morose it put Zuko off. Then Azula had lost a playmate to torment - and so Zuko became her playmate. It wasn’t as fun as he thought.  
But now Azula wasn’t here. It was just Zuko and Polar Bear. Humming, Zuko kneeled in front of the bookcase. It was full to bursting with all the old tattered stories and textbooks he had read cover to cover all those years ago. Now, the young Prince pulled book after book from the shelf, watching as the squat books thudded and flapped and a precarious pyramid began to grow and wobble in front of him. Then he yanked the bedsheets from his bed, laying them out in a big flapping square that covered the wobbly pyramid in a sheet of bright white snow. “Polar Bear!” he announced, a serious sort of smile on his face as he squirmed on his belly, “Time to climb the mountain!” And Polar Bear - woefully underprepared perhaps in just a hoodie, some may say - climbed up the mountain and down the mountain and lived on a fierce diet of imaginary bottom-biting bugs in the freezing cold climate of the water tribe.  
~

Sokka was laid on the sofa, blinking; blinking heavily as though he were fighting sleep.  
(He was.)  
Night was drawing in. It wasn’t desperately dark on the island at 8pm but there was a soothing sort of dimness that hung in the room now, the kind of lazy light that could cradle and rock to sleep even the burliest and most macho of men. The friends were happy to lay back, to chat and laugh and joke with one another, and as much as Sokka himself adored it his Littlespace, exhausted, was padding in at the corners of his mind even more insistently than usual. It wasn’t just Littlespace he had to deal with now, it was his emotions. The sort of Littlespace-fuelled emotions that wanted him to growl and kick and cry that it was bedtime and—and—and everybody was being too noisy, or- or that his milk wasn’t yummy enough like it was when Katara usually made it, it was all wrong.  
His eyes stung around the lash line and all in the corners no matter whether he kept them open or closed them or blinked heavily and slowly and dared to free fall into slumber for a few seconds. Katara was sat next to him and just her presence was a comfort (the bottle of milk she had sweetly prepared for him even more so) but he couldn’t let himself drift off. He felt as though there was a piece of the puzzle missing without Polar Bear there to squeeze. He held a cushion, squeezed it tight, but it was too bouncy against his cheeks on one side; too rough, itchy-scratchy on the other. He chewed nervously at the nipple of his bottle, rhythmic thck-thck’s. Initially this worked, his eyelids dropping heavier and heavier still as he drank – but then he emptied his bottle and woke himself up again. Squirming side to side he chewed at the long sleeve of his nightclothes, but it was too cottony – not as soft as Polar Bear – and got all claggy and uncomfortably soggy and warm.

“Sokka, what’s the matter?” Katara asked. She peered sympathetically over at him. He had been tossing and turning and wriggling next to her for the last five minutes – in the sort of way that was impossible to ignore. She had wondered if he had forgotten the before-bed potty break – although he was diapered so either way it wasn’t such a big deal. 

“I can’t sleep,” Sokka whined. His voice was tight with upset; he found he had to force his words out and then when he did his voice was tiny and croaky. He wished Katara would know instinctively what the matter was rather than having to admit it. She was good at doing that sort of magical stuff. 

“Why not?” Katara asked. 

Sokka whined, toying and tugging with his sleeve. “I don’t have Polar Bear,” he said.

“Ohhh…” said Katara, softly, and winced in realisation. Of course. “Zuko is still playing with him, isn’t he?”

Sokka nodded, still twisting and toying with his sleeves – waiting for Katara’s permission to go and retrieve Polar Bear from Zuko’s clutches. He had that horrible, awful drop in his tummy – the sort that wondered if perhaps Zuko was going to keep Polar Bear now forever and ever- or, or perhaps that Katara wouldn’t let him take his Polar Bear back – that he was Zuko’s now.

“Go and ask for him back, then.” Katara shrugged. Sokka gasped, scrambling up from the sofa.  
~

“…he has another outfit, you know,”  
Sokka chewed his thumb, looking down at Zuko who was sprawled out on the floor in his bedroom making Polar Bear dance in place. “A Water Tribe outfit. Gran-Gran made it for him. Because he’s mine.” He said this part very softly but it seemed not to matter as Zuko wasn’t listening to him all that much anyway – continuing to make Polar Bear dance as though he was lost in his own world. Sokka still tried. “I can show you!” he insisted weakly – trundled off and returned with the small knitted water tribe uniform – but all Zuko did was ‘uh huh’ distractedly. Sokka frowned. “Look!” he reached down, yanked the stuffed toy from Zuko’s clutches. “He wants this outfit. I know because he’s mine!”  
Frustrated and overtired, Sokka’s hands shook as he stuffed Polar Bear into the water tribe outfit and then held him tightly and overprotectively to his chest. His eyes stung right in the corners but he blinked really hard so the stinging stopped – not wanting to cry now, not in front of Zuko. “It’s bedtime,” he mumbled, sighing, when Zuko whined at him in upset, “He’s mine.” He said again, just in case Zuko had forgotten. “I have him at bedtime.”

He shuffled out of the bedroom, Polar Bear firmly back in his arms, finally ready for bed.  
~

Morning came quickly but at the same time dragged slowly. It was as if they were being unwound like a ball of string. The universe paid no mind to the small fact that Sozin’s Comet was due to arrive (and with it the overthrowing of the Fire Lord) as the air was yellowed and lazily slow.  
Rubbing his eyes Sokka stumbled into the living area, with Polar Bear was clutched tight in one fist. The living area was quiet, still lazy, still yellow. Sokka didn’t mind, even if his stomach was empty and grumbling. He sat on the squashy couch with Polar Bear and helped him trek through treacherously icy tundra or leap nimbly over lava pools. Then he rolled over, head lolling off the sofa near the floor, and Polar Bear whooshed through the dimpled sky in an imagined competition with Appa – or held his nose and sunk deep to the bottom of the sea. It was an easy way to lose thirty minutes; minutes that Sokka only realised he’d lost when Katara came through the living room door upside down.  
…No.  
Wait.  
It was him that was upside down. Grunting, Sokka sat himself upright and waved at his sister cheerfully enough as his play world melted away to reveal real life. “Hi!” A pleased smile spread over his face.

“Hey,” Katara returned the smile as she too rubbed her eyes. “Having fun with Polar Bear?” A giggle. She didn’t give him enough time to give her an answer - positive or otherwise. “Did you make your own breakfast?”

“…No…” said Sokka and he was bashful, even though he knew he couldn’t really look after himself if he felt Little – that was Gran-Gran’s rule, that was Katara’s rule too, and well – Sokka dared not try. He squirmed, cuddling Polar Bear. “I was playing!” he explained. “Did, um, did I make too much noise?” He’d hoped he didn’t wake his sister; he hated the squirmy swirly feelings of guilt those sorts of thoughts gave him – but equally so, he hoped he didn’t wake Zuko. As happy as he was that Zuko was Little too – that he had a new playmate! – he had this horrible sinking feeling that Zuko was going to steal Polar Bear, and- and he didn’t want that to happen.

“No, don’t worry about it!” Katara waved her hand, smiling. She went to the kitchenette and her voice sounded distant although Sokka knew she was rifling through the cupboards for breakfast. “Looks like we have some oatmeal?” she shrugged, poking her head into the living room again. “You can have it with a bottle?”

Sokka nodded. He went back to playing with Polar Bear, who by this point had caught a chill from all his snowy adventuring and some minor second-degree burns from all his lava hopping and quite needed to go to the vet.  
~

Breakfast was peaceful; involving Sokka sat at the kitchen island, legs swinging against the table, messily spooning milky oatmeal into his mouth. Sometimes if he was really good Katara let Polar Bear sit at the table – but not when he had oatmeal or Sokka would get him all messy – so Sokka had left him face down on the couch, still patiently waiting to be overseen by a vet. “All done!” he grinned, scrubbing the oatmeal splotches from around his mouth with the back of his arm and grinning impishly in his sister’s direction. His bowl was empty, with only a small puddle of milk left over. He had drained his bottle, too, although that was no surprise as Sokka loved his bottles. 

Katara squinted as if he was a magician who had wiped the breakfast away clean with just a wave of his hand. “That was very fast!” she said. “Were you really that hungry?” Her turn to feel guilty now. To her surprise Sokka shook his head, hopping down from his chair he squirmed toe-to-toe; not the bathroom sort of squirm but a squirm of anticipation nonetheless. He had to get Polar Bear to the vet! Keeping his mouth shut, he sped back into the living room to make a beeline for the – 

Where Polar Bear was lying on the – 

Polar Bear was not lying on the couch. Polar Bear was in Zuko’s arms. Zuko didn’t notice Sokka staring at him in upset with the pouty lip; he had sat and picked up Polar Bear and was now training him up so he could win various (thankfully imaginary) gruesome fights. ‘Uppercut!’ he mumbled softly, moving the plush arms and legs, ‘Roundhouse kick!’

“He’s mine!” Sokka whined. “Give him back!”

“I- I was only—!” Zuko stammered, his voice unsure and tiny as Sokka blazed over him. He didn’t let go of Polar Bear. “You- you said I could play with him?” 

“Sokka, play nice!” Katara scolded. Her voice was nowhere near a shout, but it was loud and sharp – unlike any tone of voice Sokka had ever heard Katara use with him before. His eyes watered. He shoved Polar Bear into Zuko’s lap and stomped off.

…He had quite thought that Zuko, or Katara, or perhaps Aang, would have noticed that he’d gone missing – perhaps wondered where he was with great floods of tears and bursting through the door with anguished declarations of love and apologies. He made bets with himself – oh, after I put down this blue block, Katara will come through the door; Aang will ask to play; Zuko will give my Polar Bear back.  
But nobody did.  
Soon Sokka’s bottom got tired of wriggling against the floor, his arms got tired of moving around his blocks, his imagination got tired of imagining. His games just weren’t as fun without Polar Bear around. Zuko had been playing with Polar Bear for a long time, and Sokka was tired. Tired of Zuko stealing his Polar Bear, tired of Katara being all nice to Zuko like he was the favourite Little one all of a sudden.  
Shifting, he wandered to the living area. He stopped just outside, listening, for whispers of Zuko and Polar Bear playing together – straining, forcing himself to listen through the tiny chink left by the slightly-open door… but there was silence. Sokka’s heart fluttered a little, hopeful.  
He swung the door open with an excited flourish – expecting to see Polar Bear abandoned there on the floor, arms and legs akimbo, waiting for Sokka to pick him up.

But Polar Bear wasn’t on the floor.

Polar Bear was tight in a sleeping Zuko’s arms. 

Sokka wasn’t sure what came over him. He felt hot, hot and angry and a bit like he could jump up and down, screaming and batting his fists like a toddler.  
So. 

That was exactly what he did. “No!” he screamed, running over to where Polar Bear was trapped in Zuko’s curled up clutches. “No, no, no! That’s not fair! Polar Bear is mine!” His face was tight and red as he shouted, hands clawing angrily to get at his prized bear. 

Zuko woke up as warmth was torn away from him; blearily getting his bearings he sat up, whimpered – recognising Polar Bear, sleepily reaching his hands out with a little, “Uh?”

It was funny, because in the back of his head, that tiny shred of ‘big’ness he hid away, recognised how cathartic it was to throw a tantrum. No wonder Zuko was such a fan. He ripped Polar Bear from Zuko’s arms, held the animal tightly to his chest as his heart thudded with upset. “He’s MINE!” Sokka screamed, tears prickling his eyes. “He’s not yours!”

“But—” Zuko stammered, tearful too at this rude awakening – reaching a hand out and gripping Polar Bear’s foot. Sokka had said he could have him! “But... you said!” he whimpered, tugging. 

Polar Bear slipped a little from Sokka’s grip to Zuko’s; Sokka gasped, panicked, pulling tighter at his bear’s arms – no, Polar Bear, stay here! – and so Zuko tugged a little harder…

Tug!  
Pull!  
Tug!  
Pull!  
Tug…

Rip.

The rip was cartoonishly loud, bouncing around the room, but somehow it didn’t register immediately to Zuko or Sokka what had gone wrong, even when poor Polar Bear’s leg was hanging off, the poofy white stuffing spilling out. If Polar Bear wasn’t in need of a vet after playtime earlier… he certainly was now. 

Sokka realised first, of course.  
Sokka realised first and if he thought his tantrum a few minutes ago was cathartic, nothing compared to the red mist that followed. “You!” he pounced, tackling Zuko to the ground, wailing and howling like a child. “…You broke my Polar Bear!”  
He had dissolved into hiccupping cries as soon as the word, ‘broke’ had left his mouth; Zuko cowered, fearful despite being the stronger of the two. “I didn’t--! I didn’t mean to!” Zuko squeaked between Sokka’s cries; desperate and unheard and feeling a slight bit helpless, he too dissolved into tears. “You said I could have him!”

“What’s going on in here?” asked Katara; standing over the furiously tussling pair. She was greeted by two faces shiny-wet with tears, who cried in unison, “Polar Bear!”  
~

Katara hummed in happy satisfaction as she threaded the final stitch tight and Polar Bear’s leg was well and truly saved. Gran-Gran had taught her to sew when she was a child, very briefly – of the ‘snatched moments before bedtime’ kind; when Katara was faced with a Polar Bear that was very close to being an amputee and her brother, near sobbing, it had seemed a daunting task. “There!” she smiled, tugging tightly on Polar Bear’s leg as a final check-over before showing him to her brother, who had been anxiously overlooking his bear’s ‘operation’. “He’s all fixed. Now he has a bandaid, look?”

Sokka sniffled, burying his face into his Polar Bear and mopping up his tears. Polar Bear was now the proud owner of, erm, his left leg, and a bright blue bandaid. 

(Not really; blue cotton was all Katara could salvage from one of her coats, but it was enough, and it did look like a bandaid if you squinted very hard… or felt quite Little right now, like Sokka.)

“Thank you,” said Sokka, muffled, rubbing his eyes. 

Katara smiled. “I’ll go and prepare you a bottle. I think you could nap for a bit.”

Sokka nodded sleepily; happy to sit and wait for his bottle and cuddle the Polar Bear that was rightfully his. 

Zuko squirmed. He was sat on his knees fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. Sokka almost thought he had to potty he was wriggling so much. “What?” said Sokka.

“I’m… I’m sorry I broke Polar Bear!” whispered Zuko, anguish clinging to his voice. He sounded like he was going to cry again. 

“He’s fixed now,” mumbled a sleepy Sokka, feebly making the bear dance to show Zuko that his leg was firmly re-attached. Still wary, he kept the bear tight in his grip. 

Zuko nodded, sniffled. “Thank you for letting me borrow him.” He reiterated the word, knowing now that Polar Bear was not his. 

“S’okay, Polar Bear had fun with you,” Sokka mumbled timidly. “He told me so.” He made the bear ‘talk’ and nod along with them; enough to weasel a rare giggle out of Zuko. Smiling a little – pride wisping his belly – Sokka leaned in, whispered. “Maybe you can getta stuffie of your own!" His eyes lit up at the thought before Zuko could get a word in, "Yeah! We could go to the toy store!”

Zuko flinched a little, hesitant – but - feebly, he nodded. 

He would like that.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this one. Poor, poor little boys! The thought of big baby Sokka with his little Polar Bear stuffie kills me, though. Someone draw it, please? 
> 
> (Fear not, Zuko gets a stuffed animal of his own. It's a turtleduck.)


End file.
